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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29047365">The hurt doesn't show, but the pain still grows</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icanseenow/pseuds/Icanseenow'>Icanseenow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Castiel and Sam Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Coda, Episode: s15e01 Back and to the Future, Gen, POV Castiel (Supernatural), POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, belphegor - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:21:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29047365</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icanseenow/pseuds/Icanseenow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a hole shot by God into the very fabric of his being. </p><p>It’s nothing, Sam says. It’s fine.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel &amp; Dean Winchester, Castiel &amp; Jack Kline &amp; Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, Castiel &amp; Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The hurt doesn't show, but the pain still grows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I’ve finally started watching Season 15 and I’m having feelings, so here's some Coda.</p><p>Also apparently I'm now naming stories after Phil Collins songs.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>Dean </strong>
</p><p>Jack is Dead with a capital D and Dean is supposed to feel sad about it. It's not even the first time he's dead, but it is the first time Dean almost did the killing. Not that it matters that he didn't. Same ending. It's God’s world, they're only living in it. </p><p>Castiel quivers and shakes at the sight of Jack's body being paraded around town by a sassy demon, as if Jack was truly his son. Our kid, Dean says himself when asked, because it rolls off the tongue better than hellspawn. Satan's Son. The nephilim who killed my mother. The kid who lulled in everyone from day one, with his sweet innocent act. Who smoke and mirrored Castiel into believing him over Dean when he was still in the womb. Who got Sam by appearing helpless and lost. It's not like Dean doesn’t understand that Sam saw himself in Jack in some twisted way that makes Dean’s heart ache. It’s half the reason Dean managed not to kill him for as long as he did. Sam's sad, hopeful face. Sam's belief both in Jack and in Dean. </p><p>And Dean has trouble with that face of Sam's. Has always had trouble with that face. </p><p>Castiel has the audacity to feel the loss of a child, when there is a real loss of parentage. Mom is dead dead dead. Dean failed her by being soft, by looking at Sam's face and listening to his hope and giving in just that bit. Just that bit was enough. </p><p>Castiel has the audacity to not feel shame. Dean looks at his face in the rear view mirror, the tremble of his lips and the way he winces whenever the demon opens his mouth. He is nothing like Jack. There is none of that childlike curiosity in his tone, none of that bizarre earnestness. </p><p>Still, Dean asks if Castiel is okay. That is enough. He can't do more than that. He's got enough on his plate as it is. His own worries. The ghosts. Sam's pain and that nagging question how much of it there is and for whom. Sam doesn't show it. Doesn't show his mourning for Mom or Jack in any overt way. But Dean saw his face in the morgue, heard his tone when he asked Castiel to bring him back. </p><p>It makes Dean sick. </p><p>It's not even Jack he's angry with. Not mainly. That poor bastard is dead now anyway. But Cas? Cas he should have known better. And God? Oh God, what a joke that one turned out to be. A cosmic failure he still can't wrap his head around. </p><p>It's not that he likes or trusts the demon but he's refreshingly honest. When he says he's a fan, Dean startles only for a short moment. There is no need to examine this for too long. It's simply factual. It was art. It was torture too, but it was art. </p><p>Did God enjoy watching this? Did Chuck get a laugh out of this one? That twisted motherfucker. </p><p>He takes the compliment. It was a long time ago. It was the majority of his life. Still. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<strong>Sam </strong>
</p><p>Sam is glad when he's outside the car and can focus on the case. A damn near apocalyptic emergency is the best excuse to push away the grieving process. Still, it's uncomfortable to look at his face, with these silly sunglasses barely covering the black holes where eyes used to be. </p><p>He doesn't question when Castiel appears next to him instead of Dean. He doesn't know whom he'd rather work with right now. It's easier to forget and just work the case when it's Dean, the normalcy and comfort of it. But he also finds himself thinking: He almost did it. He didn't do it. But he almost did it. Almost pulled the trigger like he always said he would. </p><p>Sam, how stupid of you, to not believe him when he says he would. To be so megalomaniacal to think you could change and bend your brother if only you could show him what you saw. </p><p>Jack wasn’t him. Dean’s rejection not aimed at him. But there’s an unsettling familiarity to it. The almost-killing. </p><p>Sam's anger is diffuse. He’s still not sure which one of them was wrong. No matter, he’s failed either Jack or Dean or Castiel. (All of them.) But if it was wrong to trust Jack, why does he feel such profound loss? </p><p>Either way, it's a row of loved ones killing each other. Or at least trying to. He's sure Jack didn't mean to kill Mom. Pretty sure. He's certain Dean didn't kill Jack; he only meant to. But what good are the grey tones, the shifting of parameters when in the end, they're both just dead. Gone. Taken from him like everyone he's ever loved who's not with him right now. Like they all will be. </p><p>Castiel feels his grief. But it's almost too much. He wears it on his sleeve. Sam wants to take him and shake him and tell him to stop. Stop acting like this around Dean. Stop waiting for explanations and apologies that will never come. Just save everyone the headache. </p><p>And yet. The pain on Castiel's face. He feels it too. </p><p>Well, at least he manages to save one child today. As he holds her and runs. As they turn and shoot salt at figures that would look ridiculous if they hadn't just thrown him to the ground, hadn't just made him bleed. As he holds the child's body to his, he counts the times he hugged Jack. If you don't count a clap on the back – no, even then, he can count the times on his own hands. </p><p>A nausea hits him. </p><p>Castiel had this look on his face when he touched the wound. One that – for one horrifying moment – made Sam think Castiel saw it too. It's not a vision. It can't be. A nightmarish, hellish thought. Merely an image. Nothing to get worried about. </p><p>But Castiel's face. </p><p>And he hadn't managed to heal him either. The wound stays as it is. </p><p>Dean worries. He does not want Dean to worry. </p><p>Still with the shoulder? </p><p>Still with the shoulder. </p><p>He swallows down the image of himself (?) (Of someone wearing him?) (Someone that felt and looked like him but who can't possibly be him because that would mean –) </p><p>Castiel throws him another look. </p><p>Sam looks away, grimaces at Dean. </p><p>It's fine. It's gonna be fine. </p><p>Just a small hitch. </p><p>Oh, but yes, they are still dead. They will still be dead once this town is saved. They will still be dead when the case is cleared. Even when all their work is done, even once God is powerless. Even if any of it had any meaning. Those he loves, those he loves who are not staring at him with unnerving looks on their faces right now, they are dead and gone and won't return. </p><p>"Fucking ghosts," Dean says. When what he means is so much more. Fucking everything. </p><p>And when Dean wavers, when he loses the grip on the world and its meaning, Sam's world wavers too. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<strong>Castiel</strong>
</p><p>A single hello.  It sounds wrong. He can tell instantaneously. Sam cannot - relief tinges his voice as he calls his name, thinking him alive.  </p><p>That is not Jack. That’s a demon. An ugly, terrifying demon soiling his son. </p><p>Dean will hear him out. The demon that is, not Castiel. </p><p>Jack's gone, alright?</p><p>So he cuts himself and bleeds for the Winchesters once more. </p><p>And then he spends an uncomfortable amount of time on the backseat with his son’s corpse that won’t shut up. </p><p>Losing a son, feels different. </p><p>Feels different from the first time too. When they all mourned him. When they all seemed to be in it together. Now, Castiel is on his own. There is no whiskey, no candy bars, no reminiscing. There is a case and a focus. And yes, Castiel too, does not want this town to die. Or the world. He too is angry. On the periphery of his mind, as a blink on his radar, there it is: The understanding of what needs to be done not to lose it all. But how much more is there to lose now anyway. </p><p>He tries to catch Dean’s eyes, but he keeps averting them, and when they do focus on Castiel’s in the rearview mirror, they are hard and unyielding. </p><p>Castiel does not know what to do with the accusation. Jack did nothing wrong, nothing they haven’t all done. Losing a soul fighting for the greater good - where is the evil in that? Where is the allowed time of orientation. A child, merely a child. </p><p>He mourns Mary, too. Not in the way Dean and Sam do, but he mourns her. Both for herself and for their loss. He liked her. There was, depending on the direction from which you looked at her, something of both of her sons in her. Dean’s hardness, Sam’s opaqueness and evasiveness. </p><p>He is tempted to grab the Winchesters and shake them. But Dean won’t even look at him for more than a second. Can’t look at him the way Castiel can’t look at the demon wearing Jack’s skin. </p><p>He cannot be alone with him. Cannot trust himself not to smite at him at the wrongness of him. The way he breathes wrong, sits wrong. Castiel runs outside to catch up with Sam. </p><p>And God. God giveth and God taketh and taketh away. </p><p>Why bring Jack to him in the first place, why bring that pain onto him. Castiel is collateral damage in the Sam and Dean story.</p><p>The father killing his own son, he said. And that is what it was, God killing Jack. </p><p>There, at the back of his mind, is a memory of Lucifer and his ranting and rage and for the first time Castiel thinks: Yes. God is cruel. Yes, he is worse than the devil. </p><p>He gave him a son and he took him from him. </p><p>Sam is not surprised to see him appear at his side instead of Dean. Maybe he knows why he’s here. </p><p>What he shared with Sam is gone, what they share now is unspoken. There is a gaping black hole where Sam’s and his parentage was. </p><p>And Dean, oh, if Dean only had had enough time. If Dean only had grown to fully love Jack, he too would have seen. He would have understood. Only with some more time. He did not kill him after all. He did not. </p><p>Castiel saves Sam today. More than once. Sam falls and stumbles, and in his movements, though determined to win, Castiel sees the wreckage inside. Sam is more self sacrificing than usual even. </p><p>He can feel the pain radiating from Sam, low, beneath the functioning surface. Castiel is drawn to it, wants to dig it out, wants to share it like they once did. </p><p>Sam holds his shoulder, his face screwed up as faces are only in the deepest throws of pain or ecstasy. </p><p>It’s a hole shot by God into the very fabric of his being. </p><p>It’s nothing, Sam says. It’s fine. </p><p>Castiel heals him, but he cannot heal him of what really ails him. </p><p>It is not nothing. It’s beyond being and nothingness, it’s so grand and all-encompassing that for a moment, there is something bigger than the pain. Bigger than the loss. Is it dark, is it good, he cannot tell. It is power. </p><p>What it is not, is fine. </p><p>But there is a clown ghost to kill. And Sam doesn’t even blink an eye at the killer clown aspect of it. The apocalypse does not terrify him anymore. He’s seen it all. </p><p>"He did not kill him," Castiel will tell Sam, later. Much later. </p><p>"What?" Sam is confused as to what he is referring to. </p><p>"Dean. He did not kill him." </p><p>Sam looks away. </p><p>It has to count for something. At least that has to count for something. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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